and we live half at night
by subparsubmarine
Summary: "Are you sure this is legal?" The boy next to her smirks. "No." AU. I don't even know.
1. and possibly i like the thrill

"Are you sure this is legal?"

The concrete is slick beneath her fingers, and the night is wide with the promise of possibility.

Pearson smirks.

"No."

Skye holds her breath, waiting for the familiar black stars to overtake her vision.

She waits.

"Okay," she exhales,"Let's do it."

* * *

"You're practically a criminal."

Rosalind hisses at her.

"You defaced public property with the words 'Viva la Pluto'." Jane snickers. "That's basically the nerdiest thing ever."

"Viva la Pluto." Batty whispers, shoulders clenching and unclenching in silent laughter.

"In retrospect, it seemed like a good idea." Skye mutters.

Rosalind raises an eyebrow.

"It seemed like a good idea to spray paint the outside of the public library with 'Viva la Pluto'?"

"In retrospect-"

"Well, in retrospect, community service will seem like a good idea." Rosalind growls.

Like, actually _growls_. Like a goddamned **lion** or something.

* * *

"So, what are you in for?" Skye asks. The boy next to her-Jeffrey, she thinks- sighs.

"Don't call it that. You make it sound like we're in jail."

"Okay, what act of rebellion against society landed you here?"

"I broke into the senior center to play the piano."

"Why?"

He whispers something that Skye can't catch, something about "mother" and "music".

"What?"

"My mother doesn't like music very much- well, she paid for my lessons, but she doesn't want me to play any music other than classical."

"That sucks."

Jeffrey manages to not look like he's on the verge of tears for a second.

"Yeah."

* * *

"How was community service?" Pearson asks, as soon as she gets out of the library. (His mom, big-shot state senator that she is, bailed him out of doing service.)

"Boring. Shelving books isn't exactly the most exciting activity."

"Well, at least you rock the Dewey Decimal system now."

Skye groans.

"Don't remind me."

Pearson looks up from where he's trying to pick her pocket.

"Make any friends?" he mocks.

She jerks away from him.

"You wish."


	2. don't panic

Skye can't sleep. That's new.

It doesn't help that her sleeping patterns have been messed up ever since the Pluto incident.

That's the thing.

Skye likes sleep. Likes being unconscious for eight hours, despite its uncanny similarity to death.

But when she dreams she's falling for the ninth time that night, she walks out the door and into the street.

* * *

She meets Pearson on her way to the park.

"What, do you never sleep?"

"I'm a vampire. But one of those, uh, new age ones. The ones that, like, live on carrot juice and animal skins."

Skye laughs. "You've been reading too much Twilight, Pearson."

"It's true. I'm going to suck your blood and feast on your flesh."

He tilts his head towards her and bares his teeth before turning and walking away.

"I am the night!" he yells, and it's enough for Skye to walk back home and make herself breakfast.

Well, as close to breakfast as she can get at four in the morning.

* * *

She has to go back to the library the next day, so she drags Pearson (who yawns every five seconds) along with her to check for what she's sure constitutes as slavery (there's a dress code, and they get a bottle of water every three hours) and at the end of the day, she's forced to conclude that community service is legal.

Jeffrey calls in sick.

* * *

On the fifth day of shelving books, she runs into Jeffrey on her way out of the science fiction isle. She's clutching _The Hitchhiker's guide to the Galaxy_ and trying to smile. It comes out more like a grimace.

She's wearing a skirt.

It's Jane's.

"That suits you. You know, 'cause it's so flowery and ladylike." he smirks.

"My sister." she offers, by way of explanation. ("Skye Magee Penderwick, I have decided, in a profoundly unwise decision, to let you borrow my skirt for one day. Once that day is up-" "I know, just give me it.")

He's wearing a green tie and a shirt with a rumpled collar.

"I think you need to iron your shirt." she retorts.

"I think you need to iron your attitude." he says, with the same maddeningly infuriating smirk on his face.

So, Skye's not that calm when she's functioning on three hours of sleep.

One thing leads to another, and Jeffrey leaves with a black eye and Skye leaves with a call to her probation officer, and the only thing in her mind is how she is _so_ not off to a good start.


	3. i am tired of all the dead

Skye's doesn't have enough time.

That's the short version.

The long version starts with her mother dying and ends with a visit to her probation officer, and there's not enough time in the world (known universe) to tell that.

Rosalind calls her reckless.

"This is getting ridiculous."

"It's summer, Rosy. Let her have her fun." her dad says.

(Of course, his definition of fun doesn't include copious amounts of Hemingway and insomnia.)

Days blur into nights where the neon of streetlights fades into stardust and silver, and Skye's saying her mother's name over and over again at one in the morning, saying her name on street corners and in shadowed alleyways. It's always there, hidden somewhere like an ache in her chest, a thorn in her throat.

* * *

_She carries secrets around with her like the memory of a seaside framed in glass._

_Like the name of a flower that opens only once in its life._


	4. these things are fun and fun is good

It takes a week before Jeffrey (finally) accepts her apology.

"Seriously, what's his problem?" Skye asks Jane while they're both sprawled out on the couch.

"Is his black eye still there?"

Jane reaches down to pet Hound.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean he can't acknowledge my apology like a semi-functioning human being."

"He's being awfully noble." Jane says, a faraway look in her eyes. "If I were him, I wouldn't accept your apology with as much dignity as he did."

"I was defending my honor!" Skye protests.

"Honor only goes so far, war-bound sister of mine."

"War-bound." Skye scoffs. "It's not like we're living in the dark ages."

"You're the one carrying on about honor." Jane remarks, so carefully that Skye starts to feel guilty.

Skye moves to pick up one of Hound's toys.

"Hound!" she calls, waving the toy. "Fetch!"

Hound doesn't respond, so Skye stalks out of the room with as much dignity as she can muster.

* * *

Pearson's been kind of obsessed with Skye lately.

It's almost like sixth grade all over again, except that they're both taller and less awkward.

Well, Skye might have to reconsider Pearson's status in the not-awkward department, but she figures that he'll get the message eventually.

After all, there's only so many times she can call him a troglodyte before he realizes that she's not interested.

* * *

"Hey, Skye, do you want to go see a movie?"

He sounds stupidly earnest.

"Can you escape from a black hole as anything other than subatomic particles?"

"Cool. I'll pick you up at eight."

"That means no-hello? hello?"

He's hung up.

* * *

The "Pearson dilemma", as she's dubbed it, puts her back four dollars (superglue) and a lecture from Rosalind about violence and counter-productivity.

Skye counts it as a success.


	5. he saw her like the sun

"This isn't going very well." Jeffrey says, suddenly.

Skye rolls her eyes, cranes her neck to glance at the stack of books that she's balancing in the crook of her arm.

"Then why are you still here?"

He looks down, kicks at the floor-

_god, are those roller skates?_

"It's complicated." he mumbles, eyes still cast downward.

Skye laughs.

A red-haired librarian stares pointedly at her before Skye scowls and moves away, stopping to straighten a poster of a dragon.

"My mother made me a deal." Jeffrey whispers angrily.

"Your mother doesn't seem like someone who would make deals."

A stain of red spreads down his neck.

"It's different this time." Jeffrey says, sounding like he's trying to convince himself of the fact.

"So on a scale of Little Women to The Virgin Suicides, how dysfunctional is your family?" Skye asks, more out of curiosity than anything else.

Think overbearing mother and jerk stepfather." Jeffrey fires back.

"Ouch."

"I know."


	6. i'm not just making conversation

"So," Jeffrey asks, after the library's closed, "Want to do something later?"

Skye hesitates.

"Maybe."

* * *

They end up in an abandoned lot, lying against the curb.

It's late, and the pavement's turning to wishbones before their eyes.

His hand brushes against hers.

"Sorry." Jeffrey says, and Skye feels something like tragedy rise in the hollow of her chest.

_This isn't going to work._

She nods, tries to ignore the rush that comes after.

_He will take you apart and ask to be forgiven when the universe spills out of your heart._

"It's okay."

It's not.

But she's a mess and he's less than perfect so she closes her eyes and makes a wish on the stars behind her eyelids.

When she opens them, he's still there.

"You're not going to leave any time soon, are you?" she asks.

Her voice cracks, and she hates herself for it.

"No."

"Okay." she says, tasting the words on her tongue.

"Okay," she starts again, heartbeat like quicksilver in her throat. "Then chase me."

_He will devour you whole._

She runs, and he rises up to greet her.


	7. it's just that i don't want to be

Skye is writing poetry and wondering if there's any way to make the phrase "If these fantasies could be entertained, I would put on a play" any less awful when Rosalind knocks at her door.

"It's unlocked." she calls out, shoving the notebook under her mattress.

Rosalind walks into the room, and Skye swears that the temperature drops a couple of degrees.

"So, what have you been up to lately?" she asks.

"Drowning in teenage angst and vandalizing office buildings." Skye responds, as casually as possible, and feels something like triumph in the pit of her stomach as she watches Rosalind's face fall.

She regrets it immediately afterward.

There are limits, even for her.

"Well, it's nice to know that you're not against perpetuating stereotypes." Rosalind says, flatly.

"Is that the best you could come up with?"

"Forgive me," Rosalind answers, "I wasn't aware that you had standards now."

Skye lets out a groan.

"Go away."

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

"You tell me first."

Rosalind sighs.

"Skye, you've been locked in your room for the past three days now. And as much as you refuse to acknowledge it, I'm worried."

"I know that, Rosy."

"Just-" she pauses, "_Talk_ to someone about whatever weird issue you've got going on, okay?"

She turns to leave, and Skye stops her.

"Wait." Skye says, strangely hesitant.

Rosalind gives her a questioning glance.

"It's about a boy." she blurts out, and the entire world seems to crack.


End file.
